


The Right Training

by PoofAlmighty



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Amira can actually murder me pls, Damien Amira and Liam are FRAINDS, Gen, One Shot, So can Damien but that's beside the point, Swearing, doofy nonsense, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 02:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15160664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoofAlmighty/pseuds/PoofAlmighty
Summary: From Damien's secret route (i.e. lowkey spoilers if ur tryina get with the fiery demon boi) no mention of the ending tho; dialogue is mostly not from the canon, a couple of the lines are borrowed.Everybody's favorite demon boi has trouble with a project he's been working on recently.  Amira offers some helpful advice; hijinks ensue (apparently the actual term is high jinks my life is a lie)Rated T because the characters are swearing up and down the garden path





	The Right Training

**Author's Note:**

> I spent 6 hours playing this game today please send help
> 
> The real prom dates were the plot holes we met along the way don't @ me

"Look, Liam, I'm sure Naruto is hot shit and everything, but I really can't believe some cartoon is that popular among celebrities," Amira said dismissively, burning swirls into the picnic table. The din of the morning's rave bumped in the background.

"For fuck's sake, Amira," Liam growled back indignantly, "Naruto is NOT a cartoon, it's an ANIME. Anime is a specific style of animated television originating from the human country of Japan. It's artistic value extends LEAGUES beyond anything a tacky, western cartoon could ever HOPE to achieve."

Amira rolled her eyes. "Sounds like you're just fetishizing foreign cultures to me, but whatever, I still don't believe THAT many celebrities are into it, regardless of what it's called."

Liam narrowed his eyes. Just as he was about to deliver a TRULY earth-shattering retort, a familiar roar of frustration came from behind the bathrooms. Liam and Amira looked over in the general direction of the clamor. "What do you think it is this time?" Liam asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Who the fuck knows," Amira groaned, "But we should probably go check it out before that dope starts setting shit on fire."

Amira and the vampire stood up from the table and walked in the direction of the noise. They rounded the corner; there, they saw Damien sitting against the wall of the building, wrestling with a corpse. Normally, this was unsurprising behavior; corpses often appeared around him, but this time was different. Normally, his frustrated howling came BEFORE the corpses appeared. He looked up, his eyes burning with rage (another normal behavior). "What the fuck are you two doing here?" He growled.

"Making sure you don't burn the fucking school down and get your ass suspended again," Liam chided him, "We know your 'I'm about to light some shit up' shriek when we hear it."

Amira looked beside Damien. There was a pair of scissors and... of all things, a make-up kit. She crossed her arms and cocked her hips to the side as a bemused smirk grew on her face. Upon seeing the look on Amira's face, Damien let out a long sigh. "All right, all right, you caught me," He said. He tossed the corpse carelessly to the side and slumped back against the wall. "I guess there's no point trying to hide it, now... but if either of you tell anybody else about this, I'll fucking kill you... and then I'll go back to Hell and find you so I can kill you again, got it?" Amira and Liam were silent, waiting patiently for him to continue. Damien sighed. "The truth is..." He began hesitantly, beginning to blush out of embarrassment, "I wanna learn how to be a hairstylist and makeup artist, okay?" His brow furrowed. "Go ahead, make fun of me or whatever..." He grumbled.

"We're not gonna make fun of you, Damien;" Liam said, "Even though seemingly-out-of-character interests that reveal deeper and more complex character traits are SUPER cliche, you can do what you want. Shit, you usually just do whatever you want, anyway. We've accepted that it's better not to try and stop you."

"Yeah," Amira nodded, "I'm just glad you found a hobby that MIGHT not land you in jail again."

Damien sighed again. "I guess I should tell you the whole story..." He said resignedly. "So, long story short, there's this show called Boo Paul's Drag Race..." Amira and Liam smirked; Damien shot them a glare and carried on, "When I first heard about it, I was fucking stoked that there was finally a show about drag racing. I mean, shit, the only thing better than a show about drag racing would be a show about drag racing where everything explodes, right?" Amira rolled her eyes; Liam shook his head and chuckled. Damien ignored them and looked down bashfully. "Anyway," he continued, "I watched the first episode only to discover that it wasn't about drag racing at all! It was about drag! I mean, what the hell? Why would they call a show about drag a drag race? Don't they know that drag racing is a thing?"

"I think that's the joke, Doll," Amira responded teasingly. Damien glared at her again.

"So," Damien said, "I keep watching, hoping that they'll eventually get to an actual drag race, but they don't. Instead, they just dress up, dance, and strut on the catwalk; no motor sports, no explosions, no murder, nothing, totally not the sort of thing I'd be into right?" He was getting more heated, "But, that's the thing, I got SUPER into it. The drag queens had more strength and ferocity than I had ever seen before. I swear I almost wanted to scream "YAAAS, QUEEN" Like I'm goddamn Polly or some shit... After I watched a couple more episodes, I realized that their strength and ferocity came from the huge wigs and badass makeup. I thought 'Hey, if I could learn how to do that kinda shit, I could pass that ferocity onto others... maybe build a whole army of drag queens to fucking slay all my enemies. I mean, they talk about slaying shit all the time, I bet an army of drag queens could slay any foe we come across."

"I'm pretty sure that's not what they mean when they shout 'Slay, queen,'" Liam commented, "But, at any rate, that's why you have that corpse, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Damien said, "Well, no, actually, I just had this corpse laying around, but I decided to use it to practice as part of my nefarious scheme to become the most fearsome makeup artist and hairstylist in the world;" He looked at the ground, frustrated, "But, at this rate, it's gonna take me for-fucking-EVER to get there. I need a better training method... a more badass training method... a training method that would suit Damien Fucking LaVey, The World's Deadliest Stylist and Makeup Artist."

"Maybe you just need the right motivation," Liam said thoughtfully. He looked over at Amira; she was much better at coming up with ideas that would appeal to Damien's psychotic nature.

"Hmm..." Amira hummed, putting a finger to her lips. "Perhaps," She began, a devious look in her eye, "He needs to see somebody he loves get killed... or maybe just severely injured... if that happens, he could get so angry that he'll unleash the true stylist within himself."

"Seriously?" Damien said, slightly incredulous. Normally, he welcomed any and all actions that led to murder but, surprisingly, he didn't think it'd help in this case.

"Interesting..." Liam nodded, "That might not be a bad idea... In fact..." He pulled a gun out of his back pocket. Both Amira and Damien looked at him with shock. Neither of them expected Liam to carry a gun around with him. Before either of them could respond, Liam pointed the gun at Amira and shot her squarely in the thigh.

"MOTHERFUCKER," Amira roared, dropping to her knee and clutching her leg, "I wasn't talking about ME, you fucking douchebag!"

"What the fuck, Liam?!" Damien barked.

"I'm just following Amira's plan," Liam shrugged, a shit-eating grin on his face, "And, let's be real, you care about her more than anybody else at this school. Shit, she can MAKE fire; we all know that puts her a few tiers above everybody else;" He smiled smugly, "Besides, she'd be the perfect model for you."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Amira barked, trying desperately to hold back the tears in her eyes, "My hair is made of fucking FIRE, you stupid piece of shit, you can't fucking CUT FIRE."

Liam chuckled. "That just sounds like a challenge to me; don't you think, Damien?" He pointed the gun at Amira's face, "You'd better work quickly and you'd better do a good job. If you don't do well, I'll shoot Amira in the face."

"LIKE HELL YOU WILL," Damien shot back, grabbing a metal comb and a pair of scissors. Amira was too terrified to move. She didn't know if Liam was serious or not, but she wasn't willing to risk her life finding out. Damien knelt down behind her and began to comb through the fire atop her head. Somehow, the flames began to run delicately through the teeth of the comb. Damien began to snip the ends of the flames expertly with his scissors, the wisps of fire drifting through the air before going out. As Damien worked, Amira could feel the pain in her leg begin to lessen. Was her leg going numb all ready? No, the wound was beginning to heal. As if by magic, Damien's masterful hair styling was healing the wound [spoiler alert the magic is plot contrivances].

Suddenly, Polly and Miranda came running up to the bathrooms. "Hey, guys!" Polly said brightly, "What's going on? We heard a gunshot and we did the most logical thing we could think of, run towards the sound to check out what stupid shit was going down."

"Indeed," Miranda chimed in, "And, somehow, we just KNEW Damien would be involved; why are you cutting Amira's hair so intensely, Damien?" She looked up at Liam, "And, um, more to the point, Liam, why are you pointing that gun at Amira?" Damien didn't respond, he was too fixated on styling Amira's hair. Liam and Amira couldn't respond either, they were too entranced in the experience.

As Damien reached the end of his styling, he let out an enraged roar. "GAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!" He shrieked, "THIS IS THE POWER OF CARING????" His comb and scissors were in a flurry; soon, Amira's wound healed completely. With a final, triumphant snip [boy that sounds less dramatic than I was hoping], Damien stood up and let out a valiant battle cry.

"Oh... my... stars..." Miranda said, awestruck, "Damien this... this is majestic. Why, Amira's hair looks like... like the very CONCEPT of victory itself!"

"Daaaaamn, D-man," Polly added, "your styling skills are fucking rad; why were you hiding them like that?"

"It wasn't worth showing off to everybody if I wasn't the very best..." Damien said indignantly (but secretly proud of his work and grateful for the praise).

"Well," Miranda said conclusively, "I think it's safe to say you've earned that title. After all, it seems as if you're styling for all the right reasons."

"YAAAAAS, D-MAN," Polly cheered, "With skills like those, EVERYBODY'S gonna know who you are! You're gonna rise to the top, Boo!"

Damien hesitated for a second. "Yeah..." He said, quietly, "Right..." He began to walk away before anybody could say anything.

"Anyway," Polly said, "We gotta get back to the party. People are doing kegstands with a keg full of everclear and I TOTALLY gotta possess somebody and get in on that."

"You can use one of my serfs," Miranda offered, "I'm sure some of them are resistant to alcohol poisoning..." She and Polly walked off back to the rave.

"Well," Liam said, feeling quite satisfied with himself, "I think that went well." He turned to watch Damien walk off, wondering why Damien wasn't acting proud... or at least being loud.

"Yeah," Amira growled as she stood up behind him, "About that..." Sparks began to fly from her fingers as they twitched with rage, "You're gonna fucking pay for shooting me in the goddamn leg, you shitty, hipster, ass-clown."

"H-h-hey, now, Amira," Liam stuttered nervously, "Y-you can't be mad at me... We... we were just trying to help Damien, r-r-remember? It... i-it worked, didn't it? Shouldn't that be what matters in the end?"

"Hmm... maybe you're right," Amira contemplated darkly, summoning a ball of fire from her hand, "Tell you what, when I'm done tossing your charred remains into a shallow grave, I'll be sure to reevaluate my position."

As Damien walked across the football field, he stopped as he heard the eruption accompanied by Liam's terrified squealing behind him. He smiled softly. There was a lot on his mind, but nothing cheered him up quite like fire and Liam's horrified shrieks.

**Author's Note:**

> Aight this ended up being a wee bit longer than I anticipated but w/e I had fun
> 
> I just played through this story line as Oz today [because I, like everybody else, apparently, am Oz/Damien (Ozmien?????) trash] and once this scene finished, I began wondering what it would be like if Amira had been involved with this nonsense instead. Then my brain made this and now I must return to the garbage where I belong.
> 
> For the record I love Liam but he's still a shitty, hipster, ass-clown


End file.
